Rudra was thrown out from his house but not for the reasons he deserves. Cast away from his royal family and stripped of his title for a crime he didn't commit, Rudra is forced to live a life far removed from the riches and power he once knew. Hidin...
The memory of their absence stung more than he cared to admit. He had tried to bury it for so long, to convince himself he didn't need them, that he was fine on his own. But now, with the complexity of Yamini's situation unfolding before him, the loneliness he had carried for months began to resurface.
A lone tear escaped his eye, sliding down his cheek unnoticed. He wiped it quickly, as if brushing away the very thought of weakness, and focused on the road ahead. It was strange, how a single thought could unravel so much, how the ghosts of his past could resurface at the most unexpected of times. But he wouldn't dwell on it. Not now. He had to keep moving forward.
............
Meanwhile, in his ancestral home in Chandra Puram, the quiet rhythms of life in the village continued.
Inside the small, rustic kitchen, Khaatyayini Devi stood by the stove, stirring a pot of fragrant curry. Her face was serene, her every movement measured with the grace of someone who had spent decades perfecting the art of cooking. Beside her, Padma, her sister-in-law, was chopping vegetables, her eyes focused but her lips moving in quiet prayer. The two women worked in unison, as they always did, their hands are a blur of activity as they prepared lunch for the family.
Khaatyayini's thoughts, however, were far from the simmering pot. Her mind drifted to her son, Rudransh, though she hadn't seen him in months. A pang of guilt lingered in her chest, but she dismissed it quickly. It had been necessary, she told herself. Her decisions had always been made for the good of the family, even if Rudransh couldn't understand them. He was the one who had left, after all.
Outside, the village was alive with the sounds of life , children playing, chickens clucking, and the distant chatter of the villagers going about their day. But there was one sound that always cut through it all: the deep, authoritative voice of her husband, Shivarama Raju.
Sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, Shivarama Raju was watching two villagers argue heatedly. His stern features made him appear even more imposing. He was the village elder, the one whose word was law, the one everyone turned to in times of dispute. His deep voice echoed through the courtyard, calm but firm as he delivered his judgment.
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Shivarama raju : Enough !
He said and his voice is commanding attention.
Shivarama raju : The land dispute will be settled by tomorrow. I will make the final decision. Now, go home.
The two men, who had been shouting at each other just moments before, lowered their heads in submission and walked away, no longer daring to challenge the authority of Shivarama Raju. He watched them go, his mind already turning to the next matter at hand. His family, his village, his responsibilities were never-ending, but it was a life he had chosen. It had always been his duty to keep the peace, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness.
From his position on the porch, Shivarama Raju could see his wife working in the kitchen, her back to him as she focused on the food. His eyes softened for a moment, but then the weight of his position returned. The village needed him. His family needed him. And as much as he longed for peace, it had never come at the cost of his responsibilities.
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Nearby, Rudransh's grandmother, an old woman with silver hair tied in a bun, sat on the verandah, a rosary clutched in her weathered hands. Her eyes were closed, her lips moving in silent prayer. She was the anchor of the family, the one who had seen it all and still carried the strength of a thousand prayers. Every morning and evening, she would sit here, offering her devotion to Lord Shiva, her heart and mind unwavering in their focus.
She had watched her children grow, and now, she yearned watched her grandchildren, but none of them are around her. But like Khaatyayini, there was a deep sense of silence between her and her son's family, an unspoken divide that had only grown in past 3 months. She had been a witness to the slow unraveling of her family, to the choices made, the paths taken. And now, as she prayed, she couldn't shake the feeling that her prayers were somehow being ignored. Her son and daughter-in-law had made decisions, yes, but what of her grandson ? Rudransh had always been different, independent, fierce , strong-willed and most importantly rebellious. The family had tried to keep him within their fold, but he had slipped away, following his own path.
The wind blew gently through the trees, rustling the leaves as the old woman whispered her prayers. Her mind wandered, just as Khaatyayini's had, but it lingered on Rudransh. She wondered, not for the first time, what had become of him, whether he had found peace, or if the weight of her decisions had left him fractured.
She closed her eyes tighter, holding the rosary with a quiet resolve.
Heeramba : Lord Shiva !
She prayed silently.
Heeramba : watch over my family. Protect them, guide them. Bring them back together, if it is Your will.
............
How's the chapter ?
Why Heeramba sent him away if she is worried about him ?
